A Royal affair – Fable of Swords.

 

“A Royal Affair” 

 

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Razorbackwriter: 

Approaching one of the balcony’s of the grand stone building, Lady Dominique now had a perfect viewing platform for the great castle of the King. As the breeze teased her red curls, that fell down off her shoulder, she let out a soft sigh. The King was up there, probably in his grand chamber. No doubt surrounded by his adored children. The Prince and Princess. Already she had seen those in the streets and in some of the grander houses sporting black garb. It was like they couldn’t wait for the King to take his final breath. It actually sickened her to the core. Dominique knew how much the King loved colours. She could remember his voice, as though he was standing in behind her now. Resting his hand on her shoulder so that she might clasp her hand over the top of it. One of those private moments, that she held deep within her heart. Their relationship would cause massive scandals if it were to be revealed. Of course, all believed him to be a good and devout King, and he was….he just had a taste for red heads, and one in particular. Dominique dragged her fingers along the harsh surface of the stone railing as she kept thinking of him. What made her heart ache even more was…he had not called for her. Why? The bastard child of his brother, his niece….his lover. That is what she was, though to society she was regarded as a business woman and a lady of great wealth. Oh, the King did help start her off, but she discovered the ability on which to read people. To seek out those that could only enhance her wealth and stature. Now she had enough gold, enough houses to rival any Duchess or Baroness. Her dead husband gave her nothing but a name. She had bore no children, and probably never would. There were secret desires to carry the King’s child, but she knew that any child that was of his name, would be a bastard and most likely killed by the Prince.

Since her husband’s untimely death, Dominique had a line of suitors a mile long. For one, her beauty was well spoken of, not to mention her vast wealth and connections. She should be happy to receive tributes and proposals daily, but alas she was not. Dominique couldn’t bring herself to love another man. The King had her heart from the moment he bedded her and stole her virginity. What would her cousin, the Princess have to say about that? Thankfully, neither of her cousins knew. Both the King and Dominique were careful to hide their affair from prying eyes. The only one that knew, was Tim – her man servant. A eunuch that she had bought on a trip to the east. He had served her faithfully and loyally as she treated him with a respect she held for few men. He was more than a slave, more than an adviser. Tim was her eyes and ears beyond the Market walls. The juicy tit bits that he brought back to whisper into her ear, was worth its weight in gold, and helped her to manipulate certain situations, that might turn scandalous, if she had not gotten involved. Everyone had a price, and Dominique was more than willing to buy a few souls in order for her to gain more power and influence. A human she may be, but a devious and crafty one at that.

But what is wealth when the one thing you want most so desperately, lay just out of your reach? Green eyes filled with sadness as she stared up at the black flags that had taken over from the royal crest. Another sign that the King was dying.

“I should be there.” Her voice wistful and full of regret.

“My Lady, if you were would you be able to mask your true feelings from prying eyes. The royals are not stupid.”

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Tim came up behind his Mistress and looked upon her fondly. Her soft silken dress lifting and dancing in the breeze like gossamer wings. A beauty standing in her ivory tower – ever longing for what she can’t have. Tim exhaled softly as his Mistress gave no response. She was thinking….she was always thinking. Lady Dominique patted the stone rail, then turned towards her man servant. His heart near stopped a beat to see that she had tears in her eyes. Lady Dominique De Shay never cried. Not even on news of the death of her husband. That time….she laughed. Odd how emotions react in such strange ways.

“I envy them, Tim. They are probably sitting on his bed right now, taking his hand. Listening to his words.” Dominique’s head shook slightly as she reached up and wiped away a single falling tear. Rare was it to see this soft underbelly, from what was a ruthless business woman. It was just then as she realized what she had said, that she suddenly grit her teeth. Sadness quickly changing to anger. Her eyes were still cast down, but her small hands were curling into fists.

“So swear it if he dies before I get to tell him I love him …..” Her words trailed off as Tim reached out to touch her arm, to try and help her through this. Dominique pulled away and snarled. “…their house…will be cursed.” Did Dominique even have it in her power to do such a thing? Tim drew his hand back and bowed his head as Dominique turned her head back to the direction of the castle. Lady Domi raised her head proudly, her chest swelling as she strengthened her resolve.

“I may be a bastard child…but I was loved by a King.”

 

~RB~

One step ahead – GS.

Scene setting:  Elissa’s apartment.

co-written with VunG.

 

VunG:  It seemed that Tommy had taken what Elissa had implied the worst way possible. She was a bit of a cynic lately, that was just what the world had made of her, and so she was reluctant to say anything definitely even to herself. She wasn’t trying to tell him that this was nothing but sex, because it wasn’t; even if she didn’t fall for Tommy she definitely cared for him, and the last thing she wanted was to hurt him. Indeed, she enjoyed this physicality, but it wasn’t what she truly found precious. She felt so… warm with him, it was rare for something to penetrate the shell she’d erected around herself, and she was more than happy to have him there. Unfortunately, her bluntness had bitten them both in the ass.

While Tommy clearly made an attempt to act unaffected by her response, it was clear that he seemed… well hurt was the best word she could come up with. It broke her heart that that was how he’d taken it, and even as he rolled over she began trying to come up with words to attempt to fix it. Eventually, after a lot of brainstorming, she came up empty and decided to just wing it. Suddenly she swung herself back over to straddle Tommy again and leaned on him with her elbows, looking down at him with the softest, most apologetic expression she could manage. Slowly she reached up and took his chin to get him to look at her, and then leaned up a bit and signed, a sheepish expression on her face. ~I didn’t say I felt nothing,~ she said, almost as if she were chastising herself as much as him, ~I’m more than willing to find out if it is love.~ She really didn’t want to leave him feeling like his emotions were falling on deaf ears, because they didn’t; she adored Tommy, and he was brave to get those words out to begin with. Much braver than her, when she could only speak in uncertainties. She leaned in close to him, not moving to kiss, but just resting on top of him, and returning his poke on the nose, giving him an uncertain smile, hoping he at least forgave her for her unthinking callousness.

 

Razorbackwriter:  Tommy was wearing his heart on his sleeve. Laying there exposed and now flaccid. Amazing how the body reacts to the mind so quickly. The brave face was nothing but a front. A mask of feelings that were not genuine. Frank would smack the shit out of him for acting so stupid. He’d always been the one that loved and left. Staying to snuggle, hug….was never an option. He didn’t ever invest himself emotionally in a new relationship. Trying to stay one step ahead always. But Elissa had caught him off guard completely, and he reacted totally out of character. Was he even thinking of how she would react as he more or less mirrored her response. That gentle shrug. Trying to shake it all off.

 

The thing was he gave unsaid signals all by body language and Elissa was a lot quicker than he gave her credit. She was quick to straddle him, a dominant move just like earlier only this time it was not because she wanted to go for round two. Elissa took his chin in her hand and forced him to look at her as she sighed and showed a sheepish look. Elissa was trying to convey that she did feel something, but it just wasn’t love. Not yet. If Tommy had really been thinking, it would be impossible to fall in love with someone in such a short space of time. At least she was realistic. Grounded. This is something Tommy had to admire. He bore a crooked half smile as he tried to find the humor in the situation – always a fail safe. Then Elissa said something with her hands that he did understand. It broke through finally that she was willing to find out what love was. That would require time; and they both had plenty of that.

Elissa then poked his nose, rather than seal her words with a kiss. This would be their thing. She looked so hopeful that he understood what she felt and thankfully, he took her fingers and bit on them playfully. That boyishness returning in the full. His ego was bruised, sure – but not broken.

Tommy reached around and slapped Elissa’s backside playfully.

“You just wanted to be on top. I know all about girls like you.”

~RB~

 

VunG:  It was actually kind of strange, but Elissa was almost afraid of alienating Tommy… she didn’t know why, but she didn’t want to be left alone. She wouldn’t quite call it an alien sensation, but she certainly wasn’t comfortable with the thought; yet as had been made apparent she was more the sort to handle a problem head on than avoid it. Thankfully though, her bravery wouldn’t need to be tested, as once his expression cleared up, she could tell that he was at least mostly back, perhaps not fully but enough for things to more or less return to how they were moments ago. Of course, the way he decided to confirm those thoughts was… unusual, and when he began nibbling on her fingers she found herself stifling a laugh, not entirely certain how to react but finding it funny. She even went so far as to wiggle her fingers, playing with him as if he were a cat, happy to just take this playful stance. And then he went ahead and smacked her backside. She made a face like she would have yelped with surprise if she could, but then she promptly settled into a wickedly playful grin.

To his accusation of her being ‘one of those girls,’ she just sat gave him a ‘guilty as charged’ shrug, giving him a Cheshire cat grin as she did so. Then she sat up a bit straighter, looking down on him confidently, nibbling on her own lips thoughtfully. ~I didn’t see you trying to take charge,~ she countered challengingly, placing her hands on her hips afterwards, almost daring him to try something. Of course, she actually kind of wanted him to try something, whether it be just friendly non-sexual playing or bending her over and taking her furiously. In case he hadn’t guessed, she was a bit more rough and tumble than most gals, and while she could do soft, she preferred to go hard and heavy with whatever she did.

 

Razorbackwriter:  Oh she was the devil for trying to say that Tommy was not dominant. Not taking charge, eh? That was a dare if ever he saw one. Watching her sit up straight and place those tiny hands on her hips – the way she chewed her bottom lip all seductive like. Yep, she WAS one of those girls. Damn straight.

So…Tommy rose to the challenge. In fact the way he shot up would have her caught off guard, possibly falling backwards. Tommy was fast and reached for her legs, so he could make sure she did fall back on the bed as he went to being on his knees. Flat on her back. Who was the dominant one now? He didn’t grip her legs hard, but she wouldn’t exactly be able to wiggle herself free.

So there she was, legs spread and Tommy in a commanding position. Tommy arched his right brow as he cracked a wicked smile.

“Round two then?”

He’d seen the Cheshire grin, the playful tease. The earlier closeness and touching was now a memory as Tommy changed tact and decided to play the Dom. He bent forward and then licked her right nipple before biting it. The playing had just begun to get more serious.

~RB~

Two red roses – GS.

 

Scene setting : Back streets of New York.

co-written with Chor.

 

Razorbackwriter:  
Taking a cab across town, Frank stopped at a curb side flower stand. Paying the driver, he got out of the cab and then went to buy two roses. He handed over the ten dollar bill and took the two long stemmed roses from the florist, who asked if they were for the detective’s favorite lady. Frank coughed a laugh as though he might humor the florist into thinking they were, but he was too shy to say. The truth however, was far different. Taking out a dark pair of shades; he placed them on and crossed the street to the alley where Rory…was killed. Looking up and down the street and seeing no one that he knew, he walked down the bin lined small alley all the way to the last place where he saw his best friend and his partner alive.

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There was no blood stain, no evidence of a man having died on this spot but to Frank it was burnt into his mind like it was yesterday. Kneeling down, Frank placed the two red roses on the ground – crouching for a moment as he said to himself a silent prayer. His right hand came up and partially touched his lips as though to stop himself from blurting something out that may be heard. You never knew who was watching. Eyes hidden behind the dark glasses, he paused there for a good two minutes or so, before slowly rising up to standing. He gave the area one last look around. A large lump formed in his throat as he fought to suppress the wave of feelings that were ripping through him.

Then without warning he screamed.

“WHY COULDN’T YOU HAVE TAKEN ME?!”

He was answered only by silence.

 

~RB~

 

Chor:  
Isa still had barely snapped into reality as she pushed her small wad of cash through the dirty, clouded slot to the bearded cabbie with teeth like jelly bellys. He tipped his hat and turned, waiting for her to exit. Yes, exit. The worn, cool door handle made a click as the door unlatched from its body and she exerted just enough force to make herself leave the vehicles warm interior. The cabbie rolled down all the windows, for no other reason than to shout inaudible advice and wish her good luck when she closed the door gently behind her.

Smoke clouded the road behind her, some of it billowing up to her nostrils, where her lungs lapped it ungratefully. The poison, though, was ignored. Her focus rested solely on the man at the flower stand. He bought flowers, a gesture Isa didn’t quite understand yet. She let her gaze follow him until he was just nearly out of sight and then she walked.

“Care for a rose, dove?” The florist sang to her, his voice sweet like honey. A thought appeared. Isa wondering how many years it took him to perfect such an inviting and charming tone. She looked at him, eyes lightly narrowed, and nodded. In his hands he held not a red rose, nor was it of any colour. It was completely devoid of and vivid variation of the rainbows skeleton hues. White. Such a pure, simple thing, she felt a knot in her stomach just gazing upon it. Maybe this was hunger, but she felt this pain differently, in a more emotional sense. She gave him all that he asked for and caressed the rose as she headed off in the direction Frank had disappeared a moment earlier.

After a short minute that felt like a century of never ending searching, Isa almost died internally, thinking she’d lost him. If he was truly to disappear, she might never get the chance to finish this. Across the street from her, a voice was found. The voice ripped her soul to pieces, shattering her well-built nonchalant disposition. Why couldn’t you have taken me? Isa’s brain exploded with memories of Claura, small tears beading in her eyes and traveling the distance of her face to fall onto her jacket.

Every single day for days, months, even years, Isa asked herself that question. She would have given anything for it to be her instead of Claura. Her older sister was taken from Isa and she cried to herself every day that she would one day figure out what had happened. This man’s pain was tangible as she absentmindedly crossed the street. She was quiet coming up on him, holding the white rose in her right hand very lightly, as if just by breathing she might ruin the innocence it exuded.

Then, as if suddenly a rope was removed from her throat, Isa spoke,
“I’ve learned the walls don’t tell you what you did wrong; why you’re left and they’ve gone. They only stare back as you bitterly retreat into yourself. They sit silently as your tears turn to acid and your life falls to shambles.They don’t whisper that there was no suffering; there is no reassurance that everything will be okay. Nothing is okay, because I’ll never know.

Isa tiptoed to Frank’s side, crouching to lay the ethereal white rose atop his two red ones.

“I’m so sorry.”

 

Razorbackwriter:  ~The Day you went away~

 

 

Frank’s body was practically rigid. He had not expected a voice. He had not expected her. Behind the dark shades his pupils dilated and his chin wobbled slightly as he fought back the tears. Men don’t cry, right? For so long nothing made sense. Like a white rat trapped in an endless maze with no way out except the lonely nights at the bottom of a whiskey bottle. That numbed the pain, if only for a short time. He could forget it all, and even who he was. But sobering up brought him back to the stark reality and the cycle would begin again. Isa was right. Frank had retreated into himself. The former family man, loving husband and dedicated detective – partner…all that was a bitter memory now. He was a shell…an empty vessel. Sure, he could be funny and make you smile, but within himself he found so little to smile about.

Why was it he could hear the deafening sound of his own heart beat, as though it was right in his ears? Why was this ache twisting his very insides? Frank blinked a few times to quell those tears as he heard Isa say she was so very sorry. As she lay a white rose beside the two red ones that were now resting together on the ground, Frank brought his face around to see Isa’s. For a moment, his face was like stone. Mixed emotions were hard for a man to deal with. He had told her to forget him. To let him walk away. Yet she followed him here to this…most sacred of places. It was where Rory’s life ended….and in a sense, Frank’s as well. It was the reason for the two roses. One for each of the two men.

Frank turned his head away for a moment and coughed, as thought he words he wanted to say were caught in his throat. The detective sniffed loudly – a sign that he was racked with emotion.

“I’m…..trying to make sense of it all. How one single moment can have such a terrible affect on every other facet of my life. If I could go back, if I could….” his voice trailed away into a soft whisper.

When Frank went to look at Isa, she would see a face that had stared back at her on many a day and night. That same sorrow, etched into the lines of his face. Loss, regret….guilt. We can torture ourselves far worse than anyone else ever could.

 

~RB~

 

Chor:  Raw; the only word that could describe this moment. The alley was filled and overflowed with pure, unadulterated, raw emotion.

Isa stared into Franks eyes as if his face were a mirror in which she saw wholly herself. It was impossible to look away, now, as the emotion sucked her up. This black hole she’d tried so desperately to hide behind her antisocial, dark, and cold facade now leaked out of her; her pores oozing this deep sadness that she never let seethe light. Isa’s hands came up to meet Frank Malone’s face and pulled it near hers, so that their foreheads were almost where skin met skin. Her thumb reached to where a small, ashamed tear had escaped and wiped it from his kind face.

If only is a suicidal lullaby; it’s a flame, it is all consuming and it will kill you if you let it,” she whispered seriously to him, her words accented with sternness. The words she spoke were truer than most likely any she’d even spoken in her days on this planet. Isa’s months of ‘what if’ s and ‘if only’ s had taken her down to a level she hoped to never reach again. As she spoke these words, liquid bubbled in her tear ducts and the tears threatened revolt against her now dry cheeks.

The journey is not yet over; you must be strong for him,” Isa persuaded, pointing at the roses as they sat wilting slowly on the filthy alley floor.

And if you truly believe I’m going anywhere, you’re dead wrong.

 

Razorbackwriter:  How long had it been since he had felt the gentle touch of a woman’s hands upon his skin? He couldn’t even remember. But in this moment where both Isa and Frank were kindred spirits – both having loved and lost. Frank was practically transfixed by Isa’s words. They were comforting in a strange way. Those nights where he had taken sleeping pills and drank a sizable amount of vodka all in the aid of never waking again. You could call it a low moment. A time when he had lost all faith. It was friends like Tommy that was always there when he was at his lowest. Offering him a helping hand. They fought like cats and dogs half the time, but the mate ship….that was true.

Frank let his head fall into Isa’s hands and then their foreheads met finally. He could smell her sweet scent permeate through his nostrils as he closed his eyes and simply let himself be held. Was it a sign of weakness to give in so easily? To not fight her off and walk away from everything? No. For once in his life Frank listened. This girl was wiser in her years than any other he had met, and while they had not ever been seriously close before, they were soul mates of this moment. Sharing a bond through loss. The journey was not over. She was right. Frank, was trying to lay it all to rest as he was about to leave once and for all. Beaten. But Isa, in her inspiring words roused in him the spirit that he had thought died long ago.

“And if you truly believe I’m going anywhere, you’re dead wrong.”

Frank raised a hand and removed his glasses so she could see the glistening of his eyes as they captured her own. Lifting his face from her hands, he then leaned in to kiss her forehead. Little did she know…..she had just stopped him from doing the unthinkable.

“Rory would have loved you, you know? Always had a thing for stubborn gals.” A hint of smile tweaked the corner of his lips.

 

~RB~

 

Chor:  Isa watched as his face told tales of his brain. He was reliving dark nights, as she often did, reminiscing unfortunately on hours spent pondering over mathematical equations to see just how much potassium chloride it would take for a woman of her height and weight. Isa’s mind justified these almost self-mortifying moments as she daily starved herself of both food and of human interaction for no other reason than to bury herself in her work as completely as a tick. Alcohol was the least of her poison intake. She was never really a drinker; that was Claura.

Finally, the rigid statue that was Frank melted into Isa’s embrace and in seeing his eyes she knew she’d stopped him from making a grave mistake. As she looked, though, she now saw understanding where there was only pain. The chains which bound him for so very long had retreated from their death-grip, allowing him breath and clarity. The kiss to her forehed was warm and kind and the thanks that came from it diffused through her skin and lit her aflame. The tears that followed in her own ducts came as he spoke. A light chuckle accompanied it as she looked to the ground to let the tears go.

Isa couldn’t dispute his words. She was stubborn, born with a drive that saw no end in sight. Without a doubt, Claura would have adored this man. Save for Frank, Claura may have been the only good cop in the whole station before her disappearance. They would have made a great team; maybe unstoppable. Isa now can only hope to do this for him. She’s not a cop, granted, but she is far more helpful in many other ways.

 

Razorbackwriter:  It was only at the end of his own tears that Frank was able to see clearly that his words had a marked affect on Isa. She was crying. A flood like release of her own that had Frank tilt his head slightly. Both of them had been keeping all this sadness and longing for understanding tied up within themselves that neither had had the chance to grieve what they had lost aside from those they loved. Themselves. It was almost instinct what Frank did next. Unexpectedly, he kissed away the falling tears that burnt her flesh. His lips tender to her cheeks till all the tears were gone. It was a gentle action, one that was probably saved for a lover. How he hated to see a woman cry. Even though these were tears were long overdue.

Frank wrapped his arms around Isa gently and brought her in for an embrace, his hand moving to the back of her head as he stroked her head gently. Allowing her to nestle her cheek to his chest. It’s surprising how something like a hug can bring us such warmth and peace. It was instinct. Natural and needed.

“Some tough cops we are. Heh.”

His words were not poetic or romantic. Just saying the first thing that popped into his head.

For the first time in ages, a real smile was on his face. Not forced, or painted. An inner warmth was spreading through out him. Isa would yet to realize what she had done for him. The roses lay upon the dirty ground at their feet, and already the wind was starting to peel back the petals. Frank had just let Rory go. Now it was time to save himself. Releasing Isa slowly, he said.

“Never thought I would be fighting crime within my own office.”

 

~RB~